


Think My Battery's Running Low

by whoviangoesthere



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: M/M, RvB Reverse Big Bang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 19:07:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12777546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whoviangoesthere/pseuds/whoviangoesthere
Summary: Grif and Simmons wake up in a strange new place, and have to face obstacles in order to escape: guards, a lack of a leg, and a certain something growing between them.(My submission to the RvB Reverse Big Bang.  Based on the amazing artwork by hazk found here: http://hazk.tumblr.com/post/167696693225 )





	Think My Battery's Running Low

When Grif opened his eyes, the room around him was blurry.  
He tried to blink the fogginess away and focus on his surroundings. He hadn’t felt this awful since the last time he ate an entire jar of extra spicy salsa (without the chips because who needs chips?). The room was white, blindingly so, and he wished he had a pair of sunglasses to block out the glare.  
Then he saw Simmons.  
He was easy to spot, with his hair being that outrageous shade of red, but he looked odd. He was slumped against the side of an uncomfortable-looking hospital chair (Grif knew because he was currently sitting in one), his head cradled in his human arm. The rest of him looked…empty. Grif craned his head to try and see better and caught a glimpse of Simmons’ other arm.  
Correction: where his other arm was supposed to be.  
“Simmons!” Grif called as he moved to get up. “You’re - ”  
His movements were halted when he realized that he was strapped into the chair by some ugly metal restraints.  
What the fuck he thought. Where the hell are we?  
“Simmons, wake up!” Grif tried again. “We need to get out of here!”  
Simmons stirred slightly, groaning.  
“I’m tired…” he moaned.  
Grif rolled his eyes. “You do not get to be the lazy one. Wake up! We’re in some sort of weird hospital and I’m seriously freaking out.”  
Simmons finally pulled his head up and glanced over at Grif. His eyes widened and he started to rise.  
“Jeez, Grif, what happened to - ”  
He stopped as he realized that his other leg wasn’t there. His arm was missing too, along with his left eye, which had been hastily wrapped in a bandage by somebody that was not Grif. The simple hospital scrubs he was wearing covered most of the damage, but Grif could see frayed wires and chunks of metal sticking out along Simmons’ neck.  
“Grif?” Simmons asked. His voice was tiny. “Where’d the rest of my body go?”  
“I don’t know,” Grif answered. “But right now, we need to get out of this room and find our way out of here, okay?”  
Simmons nodded. He was close enough to Grif that he managed to hop pitifully over to Grif’s chair and start tugging on the restraints.  
“Okay, we both pull on three. Ready? One, two - ”  
They both pulled as hard as they could, and a few seconds later Grif’s left hand flew free. He grinned and started pulling at the other one, until it too gave way. The other metal pieces were still annoyingly attached to his arms, but they weren’t imprisoning him anymore.  
“Let’s get out of here,” he said, and took a step forward. Instantly, he felt woozy and fell back onto the chair.  
“Are you okay?” Simmons asked, hovering over Grif. Grif waved him off.  
“Just a bit dizzy. They probably…” He tried and succeeded to push himself up again. “…probably put drugs in me or something. Look, I have two legs, don’t worry about me.”  
Simmons looked down at his sole leg and frowned. Grif sighed.  
“Just lean on me for a bit, okay? Until we can find something else.”  
Simmons mumbled angrily under his breath but swung an arm around Grif anyway. They took a few practice steps forward, establishing a good pace, before they managed to get to the only door out of the room.  
As Grif reached a hand to the handle, Simmons moved suddenly, throwing himself off Grif and pulling him with him.  
“Simmons, what the - ” but Simmons held his hand to Grif’s mouth to shut him up. He pointed to the door, whose small window had just darkened with an outline of a person.  
“Fuck,” Grif whispered. “Fuck. Of course it’s just our luck, we don’t have armor, we don’t even have weapons…”  
Simmons glanced around the barren room, filled with a grand total of two chairs and an ugly metal gurney. He pointed to the gurney.  
Grif scampered over to the gurney, leaving Simmons to lean pitifully against the wall. The gurney was made of rusted metal that just screamed Psycho-Horror Hospital, but it seemed malleable enough. Grif grabbed a loose part of it and pulled. With a loud clang, it broke off.  
Behind Simmons, the figure in the window turned. The doorknob began to rattle.  
Grif ran back over to Simmons and crouched behind the door, gripping the metal pole in his hands like his life depended on it. Simmons stayed quiet as the door swung open and someone stepped past it.  
Without pausing to think, Grif brought the pole down on the intruder’s head as hard as he could. The guard dropped like a stone.  
Simmons gasped as Grif punched the air in victory. He quickly closed the door and knelt next to the guard to turn him over. He was wearing combat gear over nurse’s scrubs, but aside from a walkie talkie strapped to his belt, he didn’t have any weapons.  
“God fucking dammnit.”  
“The hell are we dealing with, Grif?” Simmons whispered. “How many more of these guys are there?”  
“Look, I don’t remember how we got here, I don’t know how we’re gonna get out, but I have a pole, and we’re gonna find your body, and we’re gonna kick ass like we usually do. Right?”  
Simmons managed a smile.  
“Right.”  
Grif opened the door a crack and peered out.  
“Okay, I don’t think anyone’s coming.”  
“You don’t think?” Simmons snapped.  
“Hey, it’s the best we’ve got right now,” Grif snapped back.  
He pushed the door open slowly and held out his arm for Simmons. He took it reluctantly, and the two hobbled down the nondescript hallway together.  
It was definitely some kind of hospital. The walls were that ugly shade of taupe that’s always in hospitals, and the closed doors that they passed as they walked looked like hospital doors, with tiny windows and wide doorways wide enough for wheelchairs and beds. But the hallways wound back and forth too much, the lighting was dim and dull, and Grif hadn’t seen one single defibrillator or fire extinguisher anywhere. He tried to pretend that the place simply wasn’t up to code, instead of the encroaching reality that it was straight out of a horror movie.  
They had been walking in terrified silence for several minutes without encountering anybody else. Grif and Simmons both realized that, wherever they were, it was a lot bigger than they had expected.  
“Do you think we’re on a space station?” Simmons asked, when he realized they had yet to see any windows.  
“I get queasy when I’m in space,” Grif reassured him. “All the movement.”  
“Planets move all the time but you never get sick on them,” Simmons argued. “Maybe you can’t tell.”  
“Hey, I get sick on planets too! Just ask - ”  
“Quiet!” Simmons hissed, pushing himself and Grif against the wall. Grif gripped the pole in his hands and pretended like they weren’t shaking.  
“What is it?” Grif asked. Simmons shook his head.  
“I didn’t see much. Just a glimpse. Could be just one guy.”  
“Could be a ton.” Grif let his head fall back onto the wall and sighed. “Have I mentioned I hate this?”  
“Could be worse,” Simmons whispered as Grif tried to peek around the corner. “We could be stuck in a creepy hospital with no weapons and nowhere to go.”  
“Nobody there.” Grif ducked back and flashed Simmons a glare. “Wait a minute, you’re just describing our current situation.”  
“Exactly! We’re already at worse. We’re past worse.”  
“Well one, we do have a weapon – this pole.”  
Grif wrapped his arm back around Simmons and turned the corner.  
“And two, we’ve done worse shit in the past. So we’re locked in this place with a bunch of assholes. It’s probably a hell of a lot better than goddamn Freelancers.”  
“Don’t say that,” Simmons groaned. “For all I know, this could all be an elaborate prank by Carolina.”  
“Carolina doesn’t do ‘pranks’.”  
“Test, then.” Simmons paused. “Would she do this to us?”  
“She’d do this to anybody. Probably has all of us locked up in here.”  
“Do you think the others are here somewhere?” Simmons asked, fear in his voice. “I don’t want to - ”  
“They’re not here. And if they are, Sarge better the hell appreciate how precisely not lazy I’m being.”  
They turned a corner and found an open staircase leading down and up.  
“If this is a space station, the lower levels will have spaceships,” Simmons provided.  
“But if this is on some weird planet, the ships would be parked on the roof.”  
The distinct sound of footsteps echoed behind them. Grif glanced over his shoulder then back at the staircases.  
“I’d suggest splitting up, but - ” Simmons started.  
“We are not splitting up. Regardless of your current lack of a leg. We’re going down.”  
Grif readjusted his grip on Simmons and started limping down the stairs as quickly as he could. He rounded the turn and ducked out of sight, waiting. Several guards came barreling down the hallway they were just in. They slowed to a stop before the one in front gestured upwards. They began filing up the stairs, and Grif heard their thundering footsteps as he slowly slid the rest of the way down.  
He didn’t notice the guard posted at the bottom of the stairs until he backed right into him.  
There were a few slow moments in which the guard turned around, recognized them, and took a swing with bare fists. In that same time, Grif had dropped Simmons unceremoniously to the ground, fell into the most basic combat stance he could remember off the top of his head, and deflected the punch. He took advantage of the guard’s brief stunned look to throw himself forward and tackle him, pummeling him with every hit he could land. The guard didn’t stand a chance.  
After one final blow to the temple assured Grif that he was out cold, he searched the guard’s pockets for any kind of weapon that he could salvage.  
“Why the ever-loving fuck aren’t these goddamn guards armed?” Grif hissed.  
“Maybe they’re just uhhnnn…”  
Grif whipped around to find Simmons lolling his head, limp fingers trailing over his missing half. Grif rushed over, pushing Simmons’ head up. His eyes were unfocused.  
“Hey Simmons? Simmons, wake up, what’s wrong?”  
“I’m fine…” Simmons was slurring his words. “Landed wrong, thass all.”  
“Don’t give me that bullshit. Now I know you haven’t had any Blood Gulch beer in the past hour, so why are you acting like you just had ten?”  
Simmons fingers kept grasping at where his arm connected to his body. Now that Grif was looking directly at it, he noticed how the metal parts extended far beyond his shoulder. There were frayed wires and empty pockets where flesh and blood was supposed to be – like someone had ripped out a whole chunk of Simmons’ chest. Grif tried not to think of how close to Simmons heart those empty spaces were.  
“Think my battery’s runnin low…” Simmons mumbled, while Grif closed his eyes and sighed.  
“Simmons, please tell me those missing pieces aren’t important.”  
“You got me,” Simmons whispered, laughing softly.  
Grif gaped at him. “You’re telling me that this entire time you’ve been needing those parts and you didn’t tell me?”  
“Didn’t wanna slow us down,” Simmons admitted.  
“You idiot. You absolute fucking idiot.”  
Grif heard shouting from upstairs. He groaned and threw Simmons’ arm over his shoulder.  
“Come on. We’re gonna find the rest of your body. And try not to die while we’re at it.”  
They headed down a corridor that seemed slightly brighter than the rest, with smaller doors. Through the occasional window he could see desks and chairs. Grif figured they were in the administrative part of the creepy hospital, and he hoped that the worst they faced down here were demonic filing cabinets.  
They finally turned a corner, took one look at the hall in front of them, and ducked frantically behind a wall again.  
“There’s gotta be five guards in front of that door,” Grif whispered. “Whatever’s in there has got be important, right? So it’s our best shot.”  
“Too…too dangerous…”  
“Goddamnit, Simmons, you think I don’t know that? Do you honestly think that I want to face off against these guys?”  
Simmons gave him a pained smile.  
“You always would…for me.”  
Grif paused as he blushed, staring down at Simmons single foot.  
“Yeah. Maybe.” He shook his head. “What do you know, you’re drunk. Or, you’re dying, but you’re close to drunk and you can’t just say shit like - ”  
“Just kill them, kay?” Simmons’ grip on Grif tightened. “They…they stole my body…”  
Grif sighed and gently lowered Simons to the floor. “Kay. You idiot.”  
He readjusted his grip on the pole he was holding and took a deep breath.  
Just imagine Sarge is yelling at you.  
That wouldn’t work – Sarge was always yelling at him.  
Carolina. Yeah, Carolina scares me.  
With Carolina’s scary orders screaming in his brain, Grif rounded the corner and charged.  
Two of them were taken completely by surprise. Grif managed to bean them both over the head before the other three recovered. One drew a baton, but Grif blocked the swing with his pole and went for the guard’s kneecaps. He crumpled, and the two left backed up, raising fists.  
Finally, a good reason that they’re unarmed Grif thought as he advanced.  
They were quick, and Grif wasn’t. He barely managed to dodge one of their hits before another clocked him in the jaw. He spun backwards, massaging it, as the guard landed another blow in his stomach. Grif felt the breath he barely held in normal days leave him, and he almost lost his grip on the pole. He growled, and swung blindly, and hit something with a satisfying thud.  
Grif managed to get back to his feet and readied his next swing.  
“For the benefit of your friend, I would stop.”  
A voice across the hall made Grif stop cold. The guards stopped too, as Grif stared at a nondescript man who was dragging Simmons along the ground and holding a gun to his head.  
“You utter asshole!” Grif shouted, moving forward, but the man cocked the gun and he slowed. Simmons didn’t move. Grif couldn’t even tell if he was conscious.  
“You’ve definitely proved to be quite the patient,” the man said, taking a few steps towards Grif, dragging Simmons all the while. Grif tried and failed to quell the rage inside him at seeing Simmons so helpless.  
“Are you gonna finally explain why the hell we’re here?” Grif asked. “Or are you like Felix, waxing on. Hang on, this isn’t about Chorus is it? Cuz that ship kind of sailed a year ago.”  
The man chuckled. “All in due time.”  
Grif was eyeing the gun in his hand. At this point he was close enough that he could grab it, if only he thought of something.  
Dammnit, why do I have to be the thinker? That’s Simmons’ job.  
But Simmons was out of commission, and Grif knew that it was his responsibility as Minor Junior Private Negative First Class to fix this little problem.  
Grif stretched his arms above his head and yawned as widely as he could.  
“Y’know, all this escaping has made me sleepy,” he mumbled. The man looked at him in confusion. Grif flashed him a smile and then collapsed, letting his full body weight fall onto him.  
It took the man off guard, and he stumbled and let Simmons fall to the ground. Grif grappled for the gun and smiled as he felt cool metal in his palm. He turned from his prone position and fired, hitting the man in the chest. The two guards behind him started as he toppled, blood leaking onto a clean white shirt.  
Grif pointed the gun at them, and they ran down the hallway and disappeared behind a corner.  
“Gonna get…reinforcements…” Simmons groaned from the floor. Grif turned him over and took a sharp breath at the state of him. Something that looked like a mix between mechanical oil and blood was leaking down Simmons’ side.  
“Hey, hey,” Grif managed, shaking Simmons slightly. “You still with me?”  
“I’m always with you,” Simmons whispered. Grif tried to ignore the comment as he hoisted Simmons over his shoulder and headed into the room.  
Like he thought, a bunch of mechanical bodyparts were lying on a table in the otherwise empty room. Grif hurried towards them and gingerly helped Simmons onto the table.  
“Okay,” he whispered to himself. “Okay, I don’t really know what I’m doing. It’s just like a car, right? I can do cars.”  
He picked up what looked like an arm and sighed.  
“Hang on, buddy. I’ll fix this.”  
“Buddy? That’s so sweet Grif, I didn’t…didn’t think you cared.”  
“Of course I care, you idiot. I care that we got trapped here, I care that there’s no way out, and I care that you’re fucking dying.”  
He worked on attaching wires and bolting things down, the best way he could. It was kind of like cars, if the engines were all backwards and the red wires all connected to the blue.  
“You know, when someone’s dying…” Simmons was staring past Grif at the ceiling. His words were slowing. “They usually spill their secrets.”  
“Yeah?” Grif doubled his speed, worried that he wasn’t going to make it.  
“Yeah. So Grif…”  
Simmons sighed, which sounded more like a rusty faucet than anything human. Grif kept working.  
“Grif I don’t wanna die without a kiss…come on…”  
“I’ll kiss you when you stop dying, alright?” Grif was blushing now, and he fiercely shoved all emotions aside as he finished up work on the arm and moved to the leg.  
“I’ve just always…” Simmons eyes fluttered closed, and he sank back onto the table. “I always knew you were there, y’know?”  
He sighed again, and his body fell limp. Grif had to catch him and heave him onto the table.  
“Simmons, remember, I owe you a kiss? Don’t die on me, buddy.” Grif snapped a last piece of the leg back into place and returned to Simmons’ arm. He could hear small whirs as the cyborg parts tried desperately to come to life.  
“Please.”  
The whirring became more insistent, and Simmons let out a groan. Grif laughed and gently shook him.  
“Rise and shine! Come on, come on…”  
Simmons moved his mechanical arm up to rub at his face.  
“Sarge?” he moaned. “I don’t know where Grif is, I promise…”  
His eye flickered open and he grasped at the place where the other one was supposed to go.  
“Grif?” Simmons asked.  
“Sorry,” Grif said, hurriedly trying to find the eye in the pile of mechanical trash nearby.  
“No, Grif…” Simmons caught Grif’s arm. “Did you just…save me?”  
Grif nodded. Simmons hesitated, then blushed scarlet.  
“Oh god, what did I say to you, I didn’t…I mean, I did but I don’t - ”  
Grif responded by planting a kiss directly on his lips. He stayed there for two, maybe three seconds, before he pulled away sharply, grabbed the missing eye, and headed towards the exit.  
Simmons sat frozen on the table, staring at Grif.  
“Grif, I - ”  
“We need to find a ship,” Grif managed. He was trying desperately to avoid blushing too. He was failing spectacularly.  
Simmons straightened. “Right. Yeah. Ship.”  
“Can you walk?” Grif asked. It was a reasonable question. Not related to kissing or relationships or anything like that.  
“Yeah, I think so.” Reasonable answer. Not related to anything.  
Simmons rose and hesitantly tested out his leg. Seemingly satisfied, he nodded at Grif, and the two left the room.  
Outside, to the left, they could hear shouting and footsteps coming down the hall, and quickly. The only other way out was to the right.  
“Let’s go. Fast,” Grif ordered. Simmons didn’t argue.  
They ran, as much as Grif’s physique and Simmons’ new leg could handle. They took a few twists and turns, clambered down a few more staircases, ducking out of sight of various guards, until finally, finally, they found an area with actual signs on the walls. They followed the signs for a hanger and found themselves in a big open area looking out onto a strange landscape they didn’t have time to appreciate.  
“Ship,” Grif whispered, pointing at a Pelican parked nearby. A few boxes and crates were being unloaded by some scared-looking hospital workers, but there were no guards.  
“On three?” Simmons asked. Grif nodded and held up a finger.  
On the third finger, when the workers’ backs were turned, they rushed forward as quickly as they could and ran up the ramp. The cockpit was empty.  
“You can fly this thing, right?” Simmons asked quietly.  
“Of course I can fucking fly it!” Grif hissed back. “Just get strapped in.”  
A few minutes of poking buttons later and they heard the ramp close up, the workers shouting protests down below. Grif flashed a grin at Simmons as he maneuvered the Pelican towards the exit and floored the throttle. They went shooting past everyone and everything, out into the alien landscape. Grif tilted upwards, and they were flying into space, away from wherever the hell they had been.  
“Grif, that was amazing, that was – uh, well…”  
Simmons looked briefly at Grif before turning away, blushing.  
“That, um…that kiss, back there? That was just for fun right?”  
Grif paused. “Well, you kind of asked for it.”  
“I did not – did I?” Simmons was blushing even harder. It made him look adorable.  
Grif smiled shyly. “Yeah, dude. And I wasn’t about to deny a dying man’s last wish, so…”  
“So…”  
“Yeah.”  
They both stared out into space. Simmons reached out his mechanical arm.  
“Thanks. For, y’know, saving me.”  
Grif took Simmons’ hand.  
“Yeah, no problem, dude.”  
“And, well, um….for the kiss.”  
Grif glanced over at Simmons. He had ducked his head but he wore a shy, hesitant smile.  
“Yeah. No problem.”  
Grif squeezed Simmons’ hand, and they both gazed out into the vast expansion of space together.


End file.
